


i'll be waiting right here

by ikayokat



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, Mutual Pining, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-08 07:43:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11642064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikayokat/pseuds/ikayokat
Summary: Keith sighs and runs a hand through his already tousled hair. “I mean, we’ll just take the rings off and that’ll be it. No big deal.”“No big deal?” Lance squawks, sounding slightly hysterical now. “No big deal?” He stands up quickly and waves his ring finger in front of Keith’s face. “Keith, we said vows. I’m pretty sure that’s the very definition of a big deal.”Keith and Lance get married. Accidentally.





	i'll be waiting right here

Keith has been lucky enough to have never experienced a hangover before, though he has watched enough trashy teen movies to be able to hazard a guess as to what one is supposed to feel like. Rotten taste in your mouth; impossibly heavy limbs; a headache so bad it feels like Ms. Frizzle has taken her class on a drilling expedition in your brain. In short, he's fairly certain a hangover is supposed to feel  _exactly_ like what he's experiencing right now.

He opens his eyes and immediately regrets it.

Unsurprisingly, Drunk Keith hadn't had the foresight to pull the curtains before stumbling into bed, meaning Sober and Hungover Keith now has to deal with the blinding light from Brilas' rising sun. It's actually quite a beautiful sight. The sun bathes Brilas in a bright glow as it rises, illuminating every corner of the small planet and, subsequently, Keith's hotel room. Though, given the fact Keith currently can't inhale too deeply without wincing and that his head feels like it's home to several thousand tiny drummers, he can't quite bring himself to appreciate the view. Instead, he groans, rolls over onto his right side and buries his face in his pillow. Or, at least, he would have buried his face in his pillow if he'd had one.

"Come  _on_ ," Keith murmurs through gritted teeth. His head is still throbbing, his mouth tastes like the spoiled remains of one of Coran's rejected meals deemed NSFPC (Not Safe For Paladin Consumption), and his left arm is still stubbornly refusing to cooperate with him for some reason. Right now, all he wants to do is bury his face in his pillow and sleep until either his hangover miraculously disappears or Shiro is forced to burst into the room and drag him from his bed kicking and screaming. Given how persistent his hangover seems to be, Keith is fairly certain it's going to be the latter.

He frowns and rolls over onto his left side, determined to find his pillow and get the sleep he knows he deserves, and immediately discovers why he can't feel anything in his left arm.

There, lying just a few inches away from him, chest rising and falling with each soft breath, is  _Lance_.

For a second, Keith wonders if he's still dreaming. He'd never admit it out loud (or to anyone save for perhaps Shiro in extreme moments of weakness), but dreams of this nature are becoming almost embarrassingly commonplace for Keith. He stares at Lance for a few long seconds, savouring the realistic image of him lying beside him, then closes his eyes, counts back from twenty and opens them again.

Lance is still there, snoring softly.

Right. Definitely not a dream then.

Keith's heart is thudding so loudly in his chest, an erratic rhythm that is leaning towards almost painful, he's surprised the sound of it hasn't woken Lance yet. Keith holds his breath and prays luck is on his side as he slowly begins to pull his arm out from underneath Lance. He stirs slightly as Keith moves but, aside from a soft whimper or two, doesn't wake. Though, as soon as Keith is free and has regained full control of his left arm again, Lance immediately rolls over to bury his face in not one, but  _two_ pillows. Keith scowls, reaches over to snatch his stolen pillow back from Lance and then pauses, struck by the sudden realisation that he has far bigger problems than just a simple pillow thief right now.

Mostly: Lance is sleeping in his bed.

Doing his best to ignore the unpleasant feeling settling in the pit of his stomach, Keith sits upright and tries to ignore the way the room immediately begins to spin in every direction possible. Once the room begins to settle down and his eyes fully adjust to the constant onslaught of bright sunlight, Keith slides out of bed and pads quietly towards the adjoining bathroom.

His memories of the previous night are hazy at best. He can recall luminescent lights, glowing drinks, terrible music, warm laughter, a warmer touch and— Keith frowns and reluctantly looks up to stare at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. That's about all he  _can_ remember about the previous night.

"God," Keith murmurs, running the tap so he can splash some cold water on his face. Not only does he feel awful, but he looks like crap too. His skin is clammy, his eyes are noticeably bloodshot and his hair is a bonafide mess, sticking up in every which direction like someone has spent the entire night absently running their hands through it. Scowling at his reflection, Keith reaches up to thread his own fingers through his hair in an attempt to make it lie flat when something catches his eye and makes him pause.

There's a ring on his finger.

On his wedding finger.

A wedding ring.

It's a simple ring, nothing more than a silver band that sits nicely on his finger, but it makes Keith's blood run hot and then cold in rapid succession. He holds his hand up in front of his face, twisting and turning it as if it's a hologram and rapid movement will make it suddenly disappear.

It doesn't.

Instead, it glints in the light of the bathroom, like it's winking at him - teasing him,  _laughing_ at him - because, for reasons completely unknown to him, his life has apparently rapidly descended into a subpar Vegas comedy movie. Because Keith isn't an idiot. He can put two and two together pretty easily and he knows that if there's a ring on  _his_ finger, given the circumstances, then there will almost definitely be a ring on—

As if waiting for his cue, the bathroom door is suddenly thrown open and Lance comes sauntering in.

"Uh," Lance says, freezing on the spot as he notices Keith. He stares at him for a few long seconds, nose scrunching up in obvious confusion, before he shrugs and inches further into the room, apparently deciding that questioning Keith on why they're suddenly sharing a bathroom isn't high up on his list of things to do. "Morning?"

Keith nods. He doesn't quite trust himself to speak, not when the ring is still winking up at him in his reflection.

Lance eyes him warily, but otherwise doesn't comment on Keith's lack of a response. He stretches lazily before he leans against the sink and cocks his head slightly in Keith's direction. "No offence, but you look  _awful_ , man."

Keith wishes he could snap back with a retort of his own, but he can't because Lance looks irritatingly fine. His skin is as clear and as blemish free as it always is, his eyes are a bright blue with no sign of the red that mars Keith's own vision, and his hair is perfectly acceptable for someone who apparently only rolled out of bed about five seconds ago. The only sign that Lance may be suffering from a hangover even fractionally as bad as Keith's is the way he winces slightly when the bathroom door swings shut loudly behind him.

"Yeah, well—" Keith starts, but the words die on the tip of his tongue when Lance lifts his hand to cover his mouth as he yawns. He'd been expecting to see it of course, but Keith quickly discovers that there's a stark difference between imagining something as big as this and seeing it with your own two eyes. Because there, nestled on Lance's ring finger, is a wedding ring identical to Keith's.

"What? No comeback?" Lance snorts. He shuffles a little closer to Keith and bops him out of the way with his hip so he can fiddle with the tap. "Didn't know you were such a lightweight, but that's always good to know. Is your hangover really that ba—" Lance cuts himself off abruptly, gaze zeroing in on Keith's hand currently lying flat against the sink. He swallows, visibly uncomfortable. "That's Uh. You've got—" Lance's cheeks turn an impressively dark shade of red as he points at Keith's hand. "That's a—"

"A ring," Keith says, voice deadpan. "Yeah. I— I know. You, should, uh." He trails off awkwardly and settles for simply nodding at Lance's own hand to get his point across.

Lance frowns and glances down, his brows shooting up into his hairline as he sets eye on his ring finger. "Oh God," he says, holding up his hand in front of his face. "Oh  _God_."

"Yeah," Keith says again, bracing himself against the sink as Lance quickly descends into incoherent babbling. "Yeah."

The room starts to spin again, and this time Keith doesn't think it's because of his hangover.

 

* * *

 

When Coran informs them they're only a few thousand ticks away from a popular resort planet called  _Brilas_ , nobody is particularly surprised when his eyes light up and he immediately begins demanding they pay the planet a short visit. They are, however, more than a little surprised when Allura agrees to the visit with very little persuasion.

"We could all use a break," Allura says, shrugging lightly when six pairs of astonished eyes blink back at her. "Just a short one, though," she adds, narrowing her eyes slightly when Coran practically skips over towards the control panel to set a new course for Brilas. "One night only.  _And_ I'm giving you a limit, Coran."

"A 'limit'?" Shiro asks. "I'm almost scared to ask, but a limit on what exactly?"

"Yeah," Hunk says, frowning a little bit as they all watch Coran do an awkward little jig as he hastily types in the coordinates for Brilas. "Also, why is he so excited?" He seems to shudder slightly and shakes his head. "Nothing good ever comes from Coran being that excited."

Everyone murmurs in agreement.

"Well," Allura says hesitantly, clearly struggling with coming up with the right wording. "Brilas _is_ a resort planet. A very nice one at that."

"But?" Shiro says, his lips already thinning into a worried frown. "Why do I hear a ' _but_ ' there?"

Allura offers them all a sheepish smile. "But I'm going to need you all to think less ' _rest and relaxation_ ' and more—"

" _Vegas_ ," Lance and Pidge breathe in unison as they both scramble past the rest of them to get to the front of the observation deck to peer through the large viewing window. "Holy shit. That's Vegas," Pidge says again, absently reaching behind her to tug Keith towards the window with them.

"That," Allura says, with a resigned sort of sigh as she follows them all to the window. "That is _Brilas_. A resort planet famous for its vibrant nightlife, 24-hour casinos and..." Her lips twists into a disapproving frown. "...And a variety of  _other_ entertainment options."

Except, Keith thinks it might as well be Vegas. Or, at the very least, the Vegas is always paraded around on television and in bad movies about hen parties and stag nights gone wrong. The entire planet is pulsing and glowing, a perfect sphere covered in bright fluorescent lights, flickering on and off, promising ' _24 hours of fun_ ' in every direction Keith turns his head. There's almost too much for him to look at, he feels like his brain is about to go into sensory overload just staring at it all.

"Isn't she beautiful?" Coran sighs dreamily. He comes up behind them and drapes an arm around Lance as he gazes out of the window at the rapidly approaching planet. "When I was a young lad, they used to call me  _King of the Casino_ , you know?" He pretends to brush something off his shoulder with his free hand and winks at them. "Never lost a game in all my years."

Allura raises a brow. "Really? Because  _I_ recall Father having to bai—"

"Yes, yes, yes," Coran says quickly, deliberately raise his voice to drown out Allura's. " _King of the Casino_ , that was me. I wonder if I've still got it."

"Sounds like you didn't ever have it," Hunk mumbles under his breath, just quietly enough for Coran to realistically pretend like he hasn't heard.

"Well, like I said," Allura says, lips twitching slightly as she watches Coran pout. "We could do with a short break. As long as  _everyone_ is well behaved and doesn't get into any trouble, I'm sure everything will be fine."

"Princess," Shiro says, alternating between staring at Brilas and then Coran warily. "As long as nobody gets arrested, I'd say we'll be able to call this trip a success."

 

* * *

 

"Who do you think proposed?" Lance asks after a five minute silence that, given the circumstances, really isn't as awkward as it probably should be.

They're still in the bathroom, both sitting on the floor with their backs pressed up against the bathtub, alternating between staring at their ring fingers in shock and, in Keith's case at least, pinching themselves every few seconds just in case this  _does_ turn out to be some sort of terrible dream.

Keith feels his cheeks colour at Lance's question, but he can't bring himself to care. He lolls his head to the side and is glad to see Lance isn't even paying attention to him. He's still staring at his outstretched hand, his entire face twisted into the most stubborn pout Keith has ever seen on him. Up this close, Keith can see the effects of Lance's hangover much clearer. It's still irritatingly more subtle than Keith's own bloodshot eyes - Keith can just about make out the slightly darker circles around his eyes and, this close, it's clear that Lance's hair has been subject to the same treatment as Keith's own - but it's oddly comforting to know he isn't the only one suffering.

"Earth to Keith," Lance says. He waves his left hand in front of Keith's face and Keith can't help but follow his ring finger as it swipes left and right in front of him. Lance's ring is a tad too big for his finger and it rocks back and forth slightly as he moves his hand. "You there, dude?"

"You did," Keith says, dragging his gaze away from Lance's hand to stubbornly stare at a broken patch of tiling on the floor. "You proposed," he adds when Lance shoots him a questioning look. "Definitely."

"Why  _definitely_?" Lance asks, the corners of his lips turning up slightly. "Oh. Is it because you don't have a romantic bone in your body?"

Keith snorts. "No. Because  _you_ think getting married drunk in Space Vegas is romantic."

Lance makes a frustrated sort of sound before he opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again, and then closes it, his lips thinning into an obviously displeased grimace. Choosing to interpret Lance’s silence as a victory for him, Keith moves to push himself up.

“Where’re you going?” Lance asks. Once again, he’s not looking at Keith directly. This time, his gaze is fixated on Keith’s left hand - more specifically, the ring on it. He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and chews - a nervous habit Keith has along since learnt to recognise over the last few years. Keith ducks his head and pretends like he hasn’t seen it.

“To— I—” Keith shrugs, at a loss for anything else to say. “To get dressed?”

Lance raises a brow and then very slowly, and very deliberately, waves his left hand in front of Keith’s face. “Keith. We’re _married_. Don’t you wanna— I dunno. Don’t you think we should do something about that?”

It’s a stupid question. Of _course_ Keith wants to do something about it, but his options seem fairly limited right now. He’s also uncomfortably aware that Allura had been very firm about them making it back to the castle on time, and he really doesn’t need either her or Shiro to come looking for them. Not like this. Not when his head is still spinning and he hasn't quite wrapped his mind around the fact that he and Lance are apparently _betrothed_. “Alright.” Keith crosses his arms over his chest and glares down at Lance. “What do you wanna do? Go on our _honeymoon_?” When Lance’s only response is to shoot Keith an irritated glare of his own, Keith sighs and runs a hand through his already tousled hair. He knows Lance doesn't deserve his irritation right now. He sighs again and tries to school his expression into a friendlier one. “I mean, we’ll just take the rings off and that’ll be it. No big deal.”

“No big deal?” Lance squawks, sounding slightly hysterical now. “No big deal?” He stands up quickly and waves his ring finger in front of Keith’s face. “Keith, we said _vows_. I’m pretty sure that’s the very definition of a big deal.”

Keith feels his cheeks begin to warm again at the mention of them saying vows to one another, but he does his best to push away blurry visions of him and Lance standing at a colourful altar, cheeks flushed red with alcohol and maybe something a little more, shy smiles tugging at their lips as they inch closer to each other and—

“Wait,” Lance says abruptly, eyes lighting up in a way that makes Keith instantly wary. The last time he’d seen that look in Lance’s eyes, he’d ended up in a healing pod for three hours and the entire west wing of the castle had been in need of dire repairs. Though he _did_ win the hoverboard race, so he supposes it's not all bad. “I’ve got it. Problem solved.”

"What?" Keith asks, bracing himself for the worst.

"We're gonna get a divorce," Lance says brightly, looking distinctively more cheerful than he had been just five seconds ago. "Or maybe not a divorce. I think it's only a divorce if you have sex. We didn't—"

" _No_ ," Keith says quickly. Once again he feels his cheeks warming. "We didn't— I mean, I'm pretty sure—"

"Then it's an annulment," Lance says easily, already skipping towards the bathroom door. "We'll get an annulment."

 

 

There are three chapels - or whatever the alien equivalent of a chapel is, Keith isn’t entirely sure - within walking distance of their hotel.

The first one they come across looks like it’s been lifted directly from the pages of the script of every bad Vegas movie Keith has ever had the displeasure of watching. It’s tiny, barely bigger than a modestly sized walk-in closet, has a funny smell to it and is covered from top to bottom in tacky decorations - many of which look like they’ve seen better days. There’s even a large portion of the wall dedicated to what looks like Polaroid type printouts of all the other happy couples (and triples and quadruples) who have been lucky enough to get married here over the years.

Lance makes a contemplative sound as they both squash themselves into the tiny room. He’s staring at the Polaroid wall with a grim expression on his face, obviously searching for an image of him and Keith hiding amongst all the others. Keith hums in agreement, answering the unspoken question. Space Vegas wedding or not, Keith does have standards and this sorry excuse of a chapel definitely doesn’t meet them.

They make their way towards the receptionist sat at the furthest end of the room in an uneasy sort of silence, both of them wordlessly staring at the Polaroid wall, simultaneously seeking out their own faces and praying they don’t find them.

“Can I help you?” the receptionist drawls, peering at them suspiciously through two of its five eyes as they approach. The other three eyes remain tightly shut, though Keith thinks he can see the middle one twitching slightly every few seconds. “If you’re here for a ceremony,” the receptionist continues, tutting in irritation when neither Keith or Lance answer immediately. “Operating hours are from 12 to 6. I can book you in for a slot, but you’ll have to co—”

“Did we get married here?” Lance blurts, sticking out a hand to stop the receptionist as they reach for what Keith can only assume is some sort of booking notepad to scrawl down their information. “Last night I mean,” Lance adds when the receptionist raises one if its five brows. “We got married last night and we—”

“And you need to have it annulled?” the receptionist finishes, thin lips curving at the corners into a knowing smirk. “You know, if I had just five GAC for every time I heard that, I wouldn’t need to work here.” The receptionist stares at them both for an excruciatingly long second before its middle eye - the one twitching beneath its eyelids - snaps open. The other two open eyes are a deep brown, but this one is a dark green and slightly bigger than the other four. The pupil in the middle of it dilates and then quickly shrinks before it rolls backwards and the eyelid comes down over it again. “No.”

“No?” Keith repeats. He chances a glance over at Lance and is relieved to see he looks just as confused as Keith feels.

“No, your ceremony did not take place here,” the receptionist says.

“Are you _sure_?” Lance asks, and Keith knows he isn’t imagining the desperation he can hear in his voice.

The receptionists lips thin even further until they’re nothing more than a stark red line across the middle of their face. “Quite.”

Recognizing the dismissal and obvious irritation in the receptionists tone, Keith takes a step backwards and tugs gently on Lance’s arm. He’s gotten used to casually touching Lance over the last three years but this is the first time they’ve touched this morning and Keith isn’t prepared for the jolt that shoots through him as his fingertips brush against warm skin. He jerks away awkwardly, purposely avoiding the questioning glance Lance shoots his way. “We don’t have time to argue with them,” Keith says, nodding to the receptionist who is still quietly glaring at them even as they inch towards the exit. “Let’s just try the next place and hope we have better luck there.”

Lance makes a frustrated noise but nods before following Keith out of the chapel.

They don’t have much luck at the next one either. It’s a good deal nicer than the first chapel - there aren’t any dubious lingering smells, the decorations lean towards the classier side of things, and the few photographs on the wall are actually framed and the subjects look neither drunk or full of shotgun wedding regret. Though they quickly learn there’s a reason for that.

This time Keith approaches the receptionist, but as soon as he poises the question they wordlessly point a along finger at a slightly crooked sign hanging directly behind their desk. The words are in a language Keith recognizes but can’t translate, but the image is clear enough: a vaguely humanoid looking shape holding a large, obviously overflowing, glass, with a big red cross layered over the top.

“I wouldn’t have minded getting married there,” Lance mutters dejectedly as they exit the second chapel.

“Yeah, well,” Keith shrugs. He's not sure what to say in a situation like this, these aren't the kinds of things they teach you at school. He shrugs again, at a loss for what else to say. “Two down. One to go.”

There’s a knot in his stomach as they make their way to the third and final chapel. Logically he knows that the next chapel after this one is way too far away from their hotel for them to have gotten married _and_ made it back to their room the night before, but he can’t quite shake the nasty voice in his head whispering ‘ _what if_ ’ as they make their way inside. What _will_ they do if they're turned away from this chapel too? The ring on his finger suddenly feels very heavy and Keith absentmindedly wonders why they haven’t taken them off yet.

By the time they get there, there’s already a line forming at the third chapel and Keith immediately understands why. Even Lance lets out a low whistle as they join the queue behind two giggling women. The chapel is _huge_ and reminds Keith of the type of churches you’d find on Earth, with elegant tapestries lining the walls, golden candle holders and vases on either side of the pews, and rich red carpeting leading up to the altar.

The idea of drunk marrying Lance in the outer space version of Vegas is somewhat horrifying, but Keith can’t help but take some sort of solace in the fact that at least their drunken counterparts apparently had good taste in venues. As they wait for their turn in the queue, he finds it easy to imagine them both standing at the altar, cheeks rosy with alcohol, giddy grins tugging at their lips as they say the words ‘ _I do_ ’ and lean in—

“ _Next_.”

Keith is jolted out of what was becoming a surprisingly pleasant daydream by a sharp, bored sounding voice and Lance tugging on his sleeve to pull him forwards. Lance’s fingertips brush briefly against his wrist as he tugs him towards the receptionists desk, and Keith pretends like the contact doesn’t make his heart race.

The receptionist doesn’t spare them a second glance as they approach the desk. They’re a tiny little thing, sat on top of a pile of lush looking pillows just so they can peek over the edge of the desk, and they remind Keith slightly of Slav. They’re using one pair of hands to type frantically on a tablet in front of them, another hand to scrawl something in a notepad, and another to scratch at their head as they work.

Lance coughs pointedly, rocking back onto the balls of his feet slightly, and the receptionist pauses.

“My apologies,” they say, glancing up from the tablet to fix Lance and Keith with a friendly smile. “I’ll be with you in just a—“ The smile is immediately wiped from their face, replaced with what Keith can only describe as a glower. Their lips thin, their eyes narrow, and Keith swears the room gets a tiny bit colder. “You two.”

“Uh,” Lance cocks his head to the side and frowns. “Hello?”

The receptionist glowers at them for a few more seconds before shaking their head and climbing on top of the table, presumably to get a better view. “ _Hello_ , he says,” the receptionist laughs, eyes narrowing further still as they stare at Lance. “ _Hello_. That’s all you have to say?”

“Good morning?”

The receptionist takes three very quick steps forwards until they’re standing just a few inches away from them and prods Lance sharply in the chest. “Are you mocking me, child?”

“ _Hey_ ,” Lance sniffs, taking a step backwards so he’s just out of reach of the receptionists surprisingly long arms. “I’m not a _child_ , I’m tw—”

“And _you_ ,” the receptionist says, rounding on Keith. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“I—" Keith blinks. He's not entirely sure what's happening here, but he does know that it doesn't seem good for them. "No?”

“I’m guessing you remember us?” Lance asks. He scratches the back of his head and adopts a semi-sheepish look on his face. “And I’m guessing we probably weren’t on our best behaviour?”

Keith thinks about the hangover he can still feel lingering in the back of his head and about the amount of alcohol he and Lance must have consumed the previous night and suddenly feels very, very apologetic. He's never been drunk before himself, but he's been around enough drunk people to know that drunken behaviour can quickly turn anti-social and irritating for those not involved in the festivities.

“ _Correct_ ,” the receptionist says curtly. They sniff dismissively at the both of them before they turn around and make their way back to their tower of pillows and plop themselves down on the top one. “I believe I made myself very clear last night.” They hover one of their hands dramatically over their tablet. “If I saw you again, I’d call security to have you removed.”

“Wait,” Keith says quickly, stepping forwards with an outstretched hand. “We’re not here to cause trouble.”

The receptionist raises a brow. “Now doesn’t _that_ sound familiar.”

Keith is suddenly very desperate to know what the hell kind of apparent torture he and Lance managed to inflict on this poor receptionist the previous night, but he currently he has bigger, more pressing issues to deal with. Like the ring on his finger, for example. “We just— We need your help.”

The receptionist shoots Keith a look that very plainly says ‘ _when pigs fly_ ’ or whatever the alien equivalent of that little idiom might be (he'll have to ask Coran later), but they stay silent and Keith chooses to interpret that as a sign to continue. “We need an annulment.”

The receptionist blinks. Once. Twice. A third time, and then— “ _What_?”

“Can you cancel our— Our _marriage_?” Lance asks, stepping forwards until he’s leaning against the desk. The tinge of desperation is back in his voice again. Keith has only ever heard that voice from Lance when they've been in heat of battle and he's been urging Blue on or shouting out desperate tactical suggestions to the rest of the team. “You know, back on Earth we have this thing where if you don’t, ah, _consummate_ , the marriage—”

Keith feels the tips of his ears begin to warm.

“—It doesn’t technically count? Do you have an alien equivalent to that?”

“I know what an annulment is, _child_ ,” the receptionist snaps. Lance visibly bristles at the use of the word 'child' again, but thankfully he stays silent. “I was questioning whether why’d you come to _me_ asking for one.”

“Well, not you exactly,” Lance says, and now Keith can plainly hear impatience seeping into his tone. Suddenly, he doesn't find it all that difficult to imagine how their drunken counterparts may have pissed off this receptionist the previous night. “But the priest - or whatever - who married us last night? They can do it for us, right?”

The receptionist laughs, loud and long, as if this might just be the funniest thing they’ve ever heard. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“What?” Lance frowns. He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and chews so hard, Keith finds himself worrying he’s going to cause some permanent damage there. “Why not, I mean—”

A hand, strong and firm, clamps down on both Keith and Lance’s shoulder, and squeezes tightly. “ _There_ you two are.”

Keith instinctively shoves his left hand into the pocket of his trousers as he glances around to find Shiro smiling down at them.

“Shiro. My _man_ ,” Lance says, injecting enough faux cheer and nonchalance into his voice, that Keith almost believes him. “Fancy seeing you here. Me and Keith were just...” He trails off and gestures pathetically to where the receptionist is sat, still glaring at them.

“I hope they weren’t bothering you,” Shiro says, nodding apologetically at the receptionist, who still has a hand hovering dramatically over the tablet.

“We weren’t,” Keith says quickly, before the receptionist can explain to his brother the utterly ridiculous situation he’s managed to get himself in. “We were just—”

“We got lost trying to find the castle,” Lance says without missing a beat. He smiles politely at the receptionist and then turns the same smile on Shiro. “We were just asking for directions, no big deal.”

For a moment, Keith is _sure_ Shiro is going to call Lance’s bluff and demand to know the truth but, miraculously, he doesn’t. Instead he shrugs and releases his hold on their shoulders. “Right. Well,” Shiro turns and nods pointedly towards the exit. “Let’s get going then.”

A flurry of panic wells up inside Keith.

“Keith?” Shiro asks, frowning at him. “You alright?”

“Fine,” Keith says through gritted teeth, allowing Shiro to lead them both out of the chapel. He manages to catch Lance's eye as they shuffle out the door, but apart from an almost imperceptible shrug of the shoulders and a subtle shake of his head, Lance offers no help. The panic building up inside him has evolved from a small flurry into a full blown tornado. "I'm fine," he manages to mutter out again, trying to ignore the sudden weight he can feel in his pocket, wrapped around his ring finger.

 

* * *

 

Irritatingly, Keith and Lance don’t get the chance to talk amongst themselves about their little problem for a while after returning to the castle. They’re almost immediately swept up in a mini-lecture about the importance of adhering to time constraints from Allura and, surprisingly, an oddly nervous looking Coran.

(Keith later discovers that Coran’s claims of being _King of the Casino_ may have been more than a little bit exaggerated and, during their brief stay on Brilas, he’d managed to rack up a fairly impressive bill on the casino floor that he was rather eager to avoid paying in full.)

Once Allura and Coran dismiss them - after placing both Keith and Lance on teludav cleaning duty for the foreseeable future - Keith's hopes of grabbing a moment to talk with Lance are destroyed quickly by their fellow Paladins. Shiro immediately pulls Keith to the side, mumbling something about wanting to show him something before Keith has the chance to protest or make up a lie about being too tired to go along with him. Lance is similarly distracted by Hunk, who excitedly drags him away to talk to him about something he'd accidentally stumbled on while they were on Brilas.

"So," Shiro says conversationally as they walk down the corridor at a speed that's just a tad too slow for Keith to be entirely comfortable with the situation he's found himself in. "Did you have fun last night?"

Keith shoots his brother a sideways glance, wondering where this is going. "Yeah?"

Shiro raises a brow. "Is that a question, or..."

"Yeah, I had fun," Keith says, rolling his eyes as he bumps his shoulder against Shiro's. "Sorry,  _dad_."

Shiro laughs good-naturedly and they lapse into a comfortable silence as they make their way towards the hangar. Keith doesn't usually mind these silences. It's actually why Shiro is one of his favourite people in the entire universe to spend time with. Shiro never presses him, never demands anything from him that he can't give. Shiro is always perfectly content to let whatever needs to be said between them come out when it needs to. But right now, it's the last thing Keith needs. In the silence it's just him and his thoughts, thoughts about Lance and the ring rolling around in his jacket pocket - thoughts he'd rather not be having right now.

"I got drunk," Keith says bluntly. He's not entirely sure why he says it, mostly to destroy the silence that's becoming almost suffocating, but Shiro's reaction surprises him. He laughs. It's a full belly laugh that has them both stopping in their tracks while Shiro clutches at his stomach and flat out  _cackles_ in Keith's face. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing, nothing," Shiro says. He grins and pretends to wipe away tears from his eyes. "Just. Well, you know. I kind of assumed as much."

Keith's heart skips a beat, but he tells himself to play it cool. "Why?"

Shiro shrugs. "When you all disappeared last night, I figured you were gonna get up to something. And when you didn't come down for breakfast?" He shrugs again. "Doesn't take Einstein to put two and two together."

"Disappeared?" Keith asks curiously. His memories of the previous night are still mostly nonexistent and his interest is piqued at hearing that Shiro could potentially provide some insight into the beginning of the evening at the very least. He clears his throat and tries to inject an unconcerned air into his tone. "Do you— Do you remember what happened?"

Shiro shoots Keith a knowing look. "You don't remember?" Keith fidgets on the spot and Shiro laughs again. "Your first hangover, huh?"

Keith feels very, very strange talking to Shiro about this. They've always had a close relationship, more like best friends than just brothers, and he's never been afraid to come to Shiro for advice about his problems before. Shiro was the first person he turned towards when he was 12-years-old and developed his first crush on a boy who lived two apartments down from them. Shiro was his rock during entrance exams for the Garrison and the first person he told when he received his acceptance letter in the mail. It was Shiro he confided in after their father passed away, an unwavering shoulder to lean on during his darkest hour. But this? Keith fumbles with the ring in his pocket. For some reason, this feels like a step too far.

"It's fine," Shiro says, misinterpreting Keith's silence for awkwardness about the fact that he'd gotten drunk. "I'm not gonna lecture you or anything. You're old enough to drink. And besides, I still remember  _my_ first hangover."

"Stop making yourself sound like an old man," Keith says, lips twitching as he ducks out of the way of Shiro's playful swipe. "' _I remember my first time..._ ' You're 28, not 68."

"I'm just saying," Shiro says with a shrug. "I remember what it feels like."

Keith scowls. "It feels like shit."

" _Exactly_. And, to answer your question, you went off somewhere with Lance, Hunk and Pidge."

"Hunk and Pidge too?"

Shiro tilts his head a little to the side and fixes Keith with a look he can't quite decipher. "Yes? You said you were going to check out this bar we passed on the way in and then you'd all meet up with us again later?"

"Oh," Keith frowns. He tries his best to probe his mind for even the briefest memories regarding the previous evening but comes up with a frustrated blank. "And I'm guessing we didn't?"

"Nope. We caught up with Hunk and Pidge this morning but," Shiro clears his throat and Keith suddenly has a sickening sense of impending doom. "They said they'd lost you and Lance at some point during the night."

 _Ah_ yes, Keith thinks.  _Impending doom, my old friend._

"What'd you guys get up to?"

Keith fiddles with the ring in his pocket and shrugs. "Not much. I mean, it's mostly a blur for me but I'm pretty sure we just headed back to our rooms after we lost Hunk and Pidge."

"Really?" Shiro asks. "Because, I checked Lance's room this morning and he wasn't in there."

Keith swallows.

"Bed didn't look like it had been slept in either."

"He crashed on the couch in my room," Keith says, stubbornly refusing to look at Shiro. "We were both really out of it and I guess that seemed like the safer alternative than letting him stumble back alone." Never mind that their rooms were less than a 20 second walk away from each other and chances are that, drunk or not, Lance would've made it back to his room without incident.

Shiro hums and Keith can tell he doesn't buy his bullshit for even a second. Though Keith doesn't blame him there. He's always been a terrible liar when it comes to Shiro. Thankfully, Shiro doesn't push it any further. Keith isn't sure if Shiro just isn't interested in learning more about his brothers drunken shenanigans or if he just assumes Keith will come to him of his own volition and talk to him at a later day, but he feels ridiculously relieved when Shiro shifts the conversation to their lions and something new he'd noticed on the Black Lion the last time they had to form Voltron.

 

 

They spend the rest of the evening together and it’s actually quite nice. Shiro doesn’t bring up their time on Brilas again and Keith is able to push all thoughts of Lance (and the ring burning a hole through his pocket) to the back of his mind. When Keith yawns four times in a row and Shiro decides it’s probably time to call it a night and get some rest, he almost protests. The idea of sitting in his room alone with only his ring and his own spiralling thoughts for comfort isn’t something Keith is particularly looking forward to. But Shiro has been throwing his suspicious glances all evening and Keith doesn’t want to push his luck more than he has been, so he says his goodnights to Shiro and reluctantly makes his way to his own room.

Once he’s finally alone and without Shiro or the Lions around him to serve as a distraction, every thought Keith has spent the last few hours stubbornly pushing to the back of his mind comes tumbling back to the forefront again. He mumbles a few incoherent obscenities under his breath as he fishes out the ring from his pocket, picking it up gingerly as if it might burn through his skin if he holds onto it too tightly, and sets it on his dresser table. Frowning, he stares at the ring and is suddenly struck by how _tiny_ it is. His dresser isn’t particularly large, but it dwarfs the ring and Keith finds himself wondering how something so small could cause such a big problem.

He sighs and flops onto his bed, rolling onto his side so he doesn’t have to stare at the ring anymore. It’s childish, he knows, but part of him is desperately clinging onto the idea that if he doesn’t look at the ring, maybe it’ll disappear along with the rest of his problems. He’s not sure how long he lies there, glaring up at his ceiling, refusing to turn his head to the side to stare at the ring, but he thinks he probably drifting into an uneasy sleep when three sharp knocks on his door jolt him out of his thoughts.

“One sec,” Keith calls, quickly tumbling out of bed to grab the ring and toss it into the top drawer of his dresser. “Alright, come in.” He’d been expecting Shiro to be on the other side of the door, so he’s more than a little surprised when the door slides open and Lance comes walking in.

“Hey,” Lance says, waving as he slides Keith’s door shut behind him and shuffles further into the room. “Do you— Can we talk?”

Keith nods. “That would, um. Yeah, we probably should.”

Lance laughs quietly and moves to sit down at the of Keith’s bed but seems to think better of it and instead moves to lean awkwardly against the wall. “So,” Lance says heavily, breaking the awkward silence that has settled over the room. “Hi, Mr. McClain.”

Keith snorts and raises a brow. “Who said I took your last name?”

“I dunno,” Lance shrugs, tilts his head to the side and fixes Keith with a strange look. Keith isn’t sure if he’s imagining it or not, but he could swear that Lance’s gaze softens slightly for a fraction of a second before he shakes his head and the look disappear. “It suits you though.”

Keith feels his cheeks begin to warm, but he tries to ignore the sensation and hopes Lance will do him the decency of ignoring it too. Besides, he’s fairly certain Lance is just teasing him. Probably. He clears his throat and hopes the redness in his cheeks has gone down a little. “Well, Lance Kogane doesn’t sound too bad either.”

Lance makes a weird noise, something between a cough and a strangled yelp, and buries his face in his hands. “That’s ridiculous. You’re ridiculous. _This_ is ridiculous,” he murmurs, voice muffled slightly by the sleeve of his shirt.

“You’re right,” Keith nods, grinning slightly. It’s not often he’s able to render Lance a blushing, stammering mess like this. Usually it’s the other way around, and Keith quite likes not being on the receiving end for once. “Lance Kogane-McClain _does_ sound much better.”

Lance has got that look in his eyes again, that slightly soft and contemplative look that makes Keith’s heart race. “Who knew the first step to getting you a sense of humour was just marrying you.”

Keith rolls his eyes, tries to fight the tugging he feel at the corners of his lips. “Shut up.”

“No, no, I’m serious,” Lance grins, and he’s starting to look a little more like his usual self now. “If I’d have known it was that easy, I would’ve proposed _years_ ago.”

“Hilarious,” Keith deadpans. He grabs his pillow and tosses it in Lance’s direction.

Lance dodges it with ease but pushes himself away from the wall and moves closer to Keith’s bed. After a moment of hesitation he plops down on the edge and exhales a deep breath. “ _So_.” The playful edge to his tone has disappeared almost entirely. “We’re married.”

Keith shifts uncomfortably on the bed. “I guess.”

Lance puffs out another breath of air and then groans before falling back onto Keith’s bed. “Do you remember _anything_ about last night?”

Keith shakes his head then realises that Lance isn’t actually looking at him, but instead he’s staring up at the ceiling with an uncharacteristic frown on his face. It doesn’t suit him. As cliche as it sounds, at that moment in time Keith wants nothing more than to wipe the frown off his face and replace it with something much more Lance-like. “Not a thing,” he murmurs, sliding his legs to the side so Lance has more room to wiggle around. “Shiro said we started the night with Pidge and Hunk but…” He trails off and shrugs.

“Yeah,” Lance sighs. “Hunk said the same thing. Apparently someone recognised us at this bar and kept paying for our drinks and. Well.” He holds up his ring finger and Keith is surprised to see he’s actually wearing his ring still. “This happened.”

“So what do we do about it?”

Lance lolls his head to the side and gives Keith a half-hearted little shrug. “I don’t know. I— I know—” He pauses, takes a deep breath and seems to calm himself down and tries again. “I know this is gonna sound stupid but…” He’s fiddling with the tie of his nightgown and Keith can see he’s struggling to keep his gaze level with him. “Marriage is— It’s a big deal for me.”

Keith isn’t sure what to say to that, so he settles for a nod and what he hopes is an encouraging smile.

“The idea of marrying—” Lance pauses again, pulls his lips between his teeth and chews for a second or two. “The idea of marrying someone you love and spending the rest of your life with them?” He closes his eyes and smiles slightly. “Waking up to them every morning? Making them happy? Knowing that someone loves you so _entirely_ that they _want_ to be with you, everyday for the rest of their life? Through the good and the bad? That’s— That’s _important_ to me.”

Keith nods again. His chest feels strangely tight. “I get it.”

Lance opens his eyes and stares at him. “Do you?”

“Yeah,” Keith says. “At least...I think so?”

Lance stares at him for a few long seconds before he shakes his head and pushes himself upright. “I think you were right before.”

“Before?”

“Back at the hotel,” Lance explains. He stands up and fiddles with the ring on his finger. “When you said we can just take the rings off and that’ll be it.” Lance pulls the ring off his finger, spins it around for a second or two and then stuff it in his pocket. “No big deal.”

“Lance—”

“I think I’m gonna try and get some sleep,” Lance says suddenly, spinning around on the spot. “I’ve still got a bit of a hangover and apparently Coran wants my help with something tomorrow morning.”

“ _Lance._ "

“Night, Keith,” Lance says, sliding open Keith’s bedroom door. He hesitates for half a second and Keith entertains the idea that he’s going to turn around and say he’s changed his mind, but then he steps through the door and pulls it shut behind him and Keith is left alone with only his thoughts for company once again.

 

* * *

 

“Is something wrong?” Pidge asks, leaning back on her chair to peer over at Keith. “With you and Lance, I mean?”

“Everything’s fine,” Keith says through gritted teeth, glaring at the screen in front of him like it’s personally offended him in some way. “Why?”

“Uh, maybe because I haven’t seen you two argue like that in _years_?” Hunk adds, alternating between frowning at Keith and staring at Lance’s now empty seat with a look of worry mixed with confusion on his face. “Seriously, I haven’t seen you two go at each other like that since we first formed Voltron. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Keith lies. He makes the mistake of glancing at Lance’s empty seat, still spinning slightly from where he’d angrily jumped out of it and stormed out of the room, and his mood sours even further. “Lance is just having a bad day.”

Pidge throws a pen at him from across the room and if Keith hadn’t been in such a foul mood, he probably would’ve been impressed with her accuracy, because the pen hits him square in the middle of his forehead. “Stop lying. That right there? That wasn’t an ‘ _I’m having a bad day_ ’ kind of argument.”

Hunk nods in agreement. “That was— That was really bad, man.”

Keith sinks further into his chair, running a hand down his face as he lets out a frustrated groan. “It’s fine. Don’t worry.”

Except it’s not fine. Not at all. And Keith is really beginning to worry.

At first things had been relatively normal between them. There had been a little bit of awkwardness, but Keith supposed that was to be expected given the circumstances. For a while, it had been easy to ignore. Keith would tell himself that once they got over this little hump, things would go back to normal and they’d be able to pick their friendship up where they’d left it. He’d tell himself that drunkenly marrying one of your teammates and then mutually deciding to ignore that it had ever happened in the first place was bound to come with a few awkward caveats and that it wouldn’t be permanent. And then— Well. Then things seemed to take a turn for the worse. Things evolved from simple awkwardness to an uncomfortable tension that neither of them could quite ignore, causing a wedge to crop of between them. Before Keith knew it, they’d reverted back to their old, naive selves, bickering and snapping at each other more often than not.

“You need to talk to each other, man,” Hunk says softly. “Before it starts affecting Voltron and Allura and Shiro get involved.”

Keith grimaces. He’s not sure he wants another lesson in bonding with his fellow Paladins from Allura, and he’s _definitely_ sure he doesn’t want to talk to Shiro about his problems with Lance right now.

“Also,” Pidge adds. “It’s not fun for any of us either, you know? Listening to you two go at each other like that.”

“Got it,” Keith sighs, pushing himself out of his chair. He ruffles Pidge’s hair (dodges the second pen she chucks at him) and bumps fists with Hunk as he passes them. “I’ll go talk to Lance.”

 

 

The pool still isn’t his favourite area in the castle. It can be relaxing and all, submerging yourself in the cool water and forgetting about your worries after a particularly difficult battle, but Keith has never quite been able to get used to the whole ‘reverse gravity’ thing, unable to shake the fear of simply plummeting down to the ground like before.

But Lance loves the pool and this is where Keith finds him.

He doesn’t notice Keith immediately when he enters the room, head bobbing up and down slightly as he floats on his back in the far end of the pool, which gives Keith the chance to effectively sneak up on him. He climbs into the pool, ignoring the sinking feeling in his stomach as the anti-gravity takes ahold of him. It takes him a few seconds to adjust completely, but then he’s wading across the pool making his way towards Lance. The water is the perfect temperature and it helps to still his nerves as he moves.

“Hey,” Keith calls. Lance jerks slightly at the sudden noise, head dipping beneath the water as he flips around to face him.

“ _Keith_ ,” Lance splutters, wiping away the water from his face as he tries to right himself properly in the pool. “I– I, um, I didn’t think—” He starts wading to the edge of the pool. “I’ll just—”

“Can we talk?” Keith hates seeing Lance like this. Unsure. Jittery. Nervous. He hates that he’s the reason for it even more.

Lance swallows and nods. “Sure. Is everything alright? Is Red alright?”

“I meant us,” Keith says, and he wonders if he’s imagining the way his voice seems to break slightly. He’s waded so close to Lance they’re standing just a couple of inches apart now. “Can we talk about us?” Keith watches the heave of Lance’s chest as he inhales a sharp breath.

“I— What’s there to talk about?”

Keith frowns. “This?” He points between him and Lance, trying to illustrate the tension that’s wedged itself between them. “You’ve gotta feel it too, right?”

Lance drops his gaze for a second before he glances back up at Keith. He looks more vulnerable than Keith has ever seen him and it takes all of his self control not to take a nervous step backwards.

“Because this sucks,” Keith says when Lance doesn’t reply. “Not talking to you, I mean.”

“We are talking,” Lance says, fixing his lips into a stubborn pout. “What’re we doing now if we’re not talking.”

Irritation flares up inside Keith, but he pushes it down. They don’t need a repeat of earlier. “We’re _arguing_ ,” Keith says. He takes a step forwards until he and Lance are standing practically chest to chest. “There’s a difference.”

Lance squares his jaw and fixes Keith with a steely stare. “Seems about right for us.”

Keith isn’t sure why that hurts him, but it _does_. “What do you _want_ , Lance?” Keith asks, that irritation spiking to seep into every word. “I’m trying but you won’t—”

“How does this not bother you?” Lance says, and he looks just as frustrated as Keith feels. “It’s like it’s nothing to you.”

Keith feels his lips dipping into a confused frown. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Lance opens and closes his mouth several times before he purses it into a thin line and narrows his eyes. “Keith. We’re _married_.”

“I know?”

Keith isn’t sure how it’s possible, but Lance’s lips seem to thin even further still. He glowers at Keith for a few seconds before he drops his gaze a mutters out a quite: “You don’t act like it.”

“What?” Keith says, blinking in surprise. He’d been expecting Lance to respond with a lot of things, but not that. Lance’s eyes widen and he takes a nervous step backwards, and Keith wonders if maybe he’s surprised at the words that have slipped past his lips as well. “I thought— I thought that was what you wanted? Didn’t we agree on that? To pretend like it never happened in the first place?”

Lance shrugs and takes another step backwards. “I just—” He cuts himself off abruptly and shakes his head, lips thinning into that same dissatisfied frown from earlier. “I don’t know.” And his voice sounds so _small_ , so fragile, so unsure, it makes Keith’s stomach twist.

Keith inhales and takes a step forwards, closing the gap Lance has made between them. “Lance?” It takes him a second or two, but Lance eventually looks up and meets his gaze. There’s a lot hidden in that gaze, hidden behind stormy blue eyes and Keith allows himself something he’s been denying for a while now. _Hope_. Keith takes another step forwards until they’re standing practically chest to chest and licks his lips. “What do you want?” This close, Keith can see the way Lance’s pupils dilate slightly as his chest rises and falls with each sharp intake of breath. “Just tell me.”

“You know what I want,” Lance says, glaring at Keith like he’s being purposely difficult.

And, well. Maybe he is. Because he has his suspicions; thinks he knows _exactly_ what Lance wants from him; thinks it might be the same thing Keith wants from Lance. But he needs Lance to say it, needs Lance to make the first step because the idea of rejection? It’s too much for Keith. It’s the reason he’s kept silent, keeping his feelings entirely to himself (and occasionally Shiro in extreme moments of weakness) for the last year or so. The reason why he’s allowed what could’ve been a simple and harmless crush to blossom into _this_ . Whatever _this_ is supposed to be.

“No I don’t,” Keith says, jutting his chin upwards slightly to match Lance’s own stubborn expression. “I don’t because you won’t tell me. I’m not a mindreader, Lance.”

“Well neither am I,” Lance snaps back. His chest heaves as his breathing becomes deeper and more erratic. “You don’t tell me what you’re really thinking either.” Keith swallows nervously and wonders if Lance has been able to read him as well as he’s been reading Lance this entire time. “You just— You just walk around here acting like nothing bothers you. Like the fact we got _married_ doesn’t mean anything.”

“Does it?”

Lance adopts a deer in headlights sort of look on his face and Keith gets the distinct impression that if they’d been walking, he would’ve stopped in his tracks. “Does _what_?”

“ _Does_ it mean anything?”

Lance stares at him for a long second, his face a mask of pure stubbornness and another emotion Keith can’t make out. “You tell me.”

Keith glowers at him. “If you’re just go—”

A piercing alarm echoes around the room and Keith and Lance are given precisely two seconds before the anti-gravity fails them and they hurtle towards the floor. Keith barely has the chance to right himself and rub the sore spot on his thighs, before Allura’s voice is crackling over the intercom.

“ _Could all Paladin’s please make their way to the control room immediately. There’s a Galra fleet just a few ticks away._ ” There’s a pause and then: “ _Keith and Lance? We're just waiting on you two. To the control immediately please_.”

“Coming Princess,” Lance murmurs, even though Allura couldn’t possibly hear them from here. He turns to Keith, expression still sour and nods towards the exit.

“Lance—”

“Let’s go, Samurai,” Lance says dismissively, shaking off some of the water dripping off him as he begins walking towards the door. “Duty calls.”

 

* * *

 

Keith is cold, colder than he’s ever felt before. He tries to open his eye, but can’t; tries to flex his fingers, but to no avail; tries to open his mouth to utter out a plea for help, but his lips remain steadfastly pressed shut. All he can do is lie there, waiting as the cold systematically makes its way down his body, numbing every inch of him until he’s not even sure he’s there anymore.

It takes longer than it probably should for Keith to realise that he’s in a healing pod.

 _Ah_ , Keith thinks as the cold makes its way down his thigh and continues inching down towards his toes. _Right_. He’d been injured. Badly too, judging by the level the healing pod has been set to. He’s had his fair share of turns in healing pods over the last three years, but he doesn’t remember it ever being as intense as this. The cold wraps itself around his left knee and Keith experiences a jolt of pain unlike anything he’s ever experienced before. If he could talk, he’d scream. As it stands, the only thing he can do is count back from one hundred and pray the pain lessens to a more manageable degree soon. He’s at ‘38’ when the pain finally subsides to an acceptable level and the cold, numbing sensation continues on its travels down his body.

He’s not sure how long he’s been in the pod for, but he thinks he probably hasn’t got much time left. The cold sensation has reached his ankles and he thinks he’s starting to regain some feeling in his fingertips. And—

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

Someone is impatiently tapping on the window of his pod. On any other occasion, Keith would be annoyed by the irritating sound, but the fact that he _can_ hear it means he’ll be released from the pod soon, so he decides to count it as a small blessing.

_Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap._

Keith’s brows furrow slightly, knitting together in the middle. He wishes they would stop. Sadly, his wishes aren’t granted and the tapping continues. Keith tries to picture who it could be, waiting for him out there. Shiro is his first guess but Shiro isn’t a tapper. When it comes to the healing pods, Shiro is a _brooder_. Shiro will sit on a chair a few metres away from the pod and stare and stare and stare until someone - usually Allura - is forced to drag him away and force him to get some rest. His mental image of Shiro in his mind’s eye fades away and makes room for Hunk, but Keith quickly shooes that image away as well. Hunk is not-so-secretly Keith’s favourite person when it comes to watching the healing pods, because Hunk is a calming presence. Hunk doesn’t tap or brood or stay awake for 24 hours memorising all his vital signs on the computer (Pidge), Hunk simply reads. Keith remembers a five hour spell spent in the healing pod not too long after they first formed Voltron. His injuries hadn’t been so severe that he’d needed the full power of the pod, meaning he’d been able to hear Hunk as he sat by his side and read to him from a book.

The tapping continues and Keith’s mind’s eye settles on a new image - of _Lance_.

Now, Lance _is_ a tapper and is just as impatient as Keith when it comes to the healing pods, but the idea of Lance being on the other side of the healing pod causes an unpleasant weight to settle in the pit of his stomach. He’s painfully aware that the last time they’d spoken, just before Allura had summoned them to the control room and Keith had landed himself in this mess, they hadn’t ended things on good terms. The grinning image of Lance in his mind twists and transforms until Keith can only see the Lance from back in the pool glaring back at him.

 _Stubborn idiot_ , Keith thinks glumly, watching as his imaginary Lance continues to glare at him. He’s not sure who he’s talking about, though: him or Lance? _Both_.

The healing pod beeps several times and Keith braces himself as the door slowly opens and the machine begins to tilt him forwards so he can slide out. He hates this part of the healing process the most and has never really understood why they don’t simply place a mattress outside the pods. He thinks his hipbone still might be bruised from the last time he’d come tumbling out of one of the pods.

The door opens completely and Keith has barely a second's warning before he’s slipping out of the pod and hitting the floor. Or, at least, he _should_ have hit the floor. Instead he hits something warm, and it’s less of a hitting sensation and more like he’s being _embraced_.

“It’s alright, I’ve got you,” Lance murmurs as he wraps his arms tighter around Keith and steadies him. “I’ve got you.”

“Lance?”

“Yeah,” Lance says. He’s staring at Keith intently, one arm holding him round the waist, the other pressed against the small of his back. Keith shifts slightly and Lance’s hand dips to brush against his skin and Keith suddenly feels like he’s on fire. “You alright?”

“I—” Keith pauses and frowns. Lance’s expression is a carbon copy of the Lance from his memories back in the healing pod; all furrowed brows, frown lines and lips curved downwards. It doesn’t suit him, not one bit, and Keith hates that he’s the reason for it. Hates that this could’ve all been avoided if one of them had just been a little less stubborn, a little less proud, a little less _scared_.

Lance’s frown deepens even further, though at least this time it seems to be in concern and not irritation. “Keith? Is something wrong? Are you—”

Keith tilts his head upwards and presses their lips together. It’s quick, chaste, barely a kiss and more like a whisper against Lance’s lips, but it sets Keith’s entire body ablaze. He licks his lips as he pulls away. “I just—”

Lance makes an irritated noise, dips his head and kisses him again. Kisses him deep and passionate as he wraps his arms around Keith and squeezes tight. Before Keith knows it, they’re stumbling backwards until Keith is pressed against the wall and they’re clinging to each other like if they dare to let go, they’ll never find each other again. Even in his wildest dreams, Keith has never been kissed like this before.

No words are exchanged between them, but the kiss says a lot of things on its own. Things like ‘ _I’m so glad you’re alive_ ’ and ‘ _me too, me too_ ’; things like ‘ _I’m sorry_ ’ and ‘ _so am I_ ’; things like ‘ _I never want to stop this_ ’ and ‘ _God...me too_ ’; things like ‘ _I like you, I like you so much it hurts_ ’ and—

Keith blinks.

He thinks Lance said that last one out loud.

They’re still pressed flush against each other, Lance’s nose brushing slightly against his, his breath fanning across his face, but Keith is sure he must’ve misheard. He blinks again. “What?”

“I said I like you,” Lance says again. He pulls away slightly so he can get a better look at Keith. “A lot. And when you were in that pod, I just kept thinking about how—”

“Me too,” Keith says. He suddenly feels breathless, weightless, like he could take on an entire Galra fleet by himself and emerge victorious. “I really like you too.” It feels like a weight off his shoulder finally admitting it out loud so Keith says it again. And again and again, peppering Lance’s lips and cheeks with little butterfly kisses every time.

Keith is just thinking that he wouldn’t mind kissing Lance forever (breathing be damned!) when a shooting pain wraps itself around his leg and he’s forced to pull away, hissing slightly as he goes.

“What’s wrong?” Lance says, eyes wide and frantic as he searches Keith’s face for the answer he’s looking for. “Is it—” His gaze drops and settles on Keith’s leg. “Ah, right. One sec.” He pulls away from Keith just far enough to wrap his arm around his waist again and guides him towards a nearby chair. “Coran said your injuries were so severe, the pod might not be able to heal everything right away. You might have to do a couple more sessions in it later on, but it should’ve gotten you to a manageable level.”

Keith nods as he eases himself into the chair, gaze focused on his leg. He can still feel it tingling painfully and he bites his bottom lip to stop himself from crying out loud. “What happened?”

Lance hesitates before sinking into the chair next to him. “You don’t remember?”

Keith shakes his head. His memories about what went down during the battle are still hazy; he can remember Allura summoning them to the control room, a frantic distress signal, flying Red through a Galra fleet, boarding a Galra ship and then– Keith feels his heart stutter. He remembers the feeling of pure, unadulterated _heat_ wrapping itself around him blanketing his entire body and smothering him. He winces at the memory of it all and subconsciously shifts a little closer to Lance. “Not really.”

“It was a trap,” Lance murmurs as he drapes an arm over Keith’s shoulder and pulls him in close. “The distress signal. We boarded the ship and there weren’t any prisoners. Just a group of Lotor’s cronies waiting for us.”

Keith nods. He thinks he remembers that - the feeling of desperation as they ran through the ship looking for the prisoners they’d been sent to rescue, and that feeling of desperation morphing into fury and rage once they realised they’d been fooled.

“We actually did pretty well at first,” Lance says. His fingers are absentmindedly carding through the little bit of hair at the base of Keith’s neck, and it’s all Keith can do not to sigh contentedly and lean into his touch. “It was like back at the pool didn’t happen and we didn’t hate each other—”

“I never hated you,” Keith says quietly, but Lance is already moving on.

“There was an explosion,” Lance explains, voice dipping to barely a whisper. Absentmindedly, Keith realises that it’s a testament to how close they are now that Keith can even hear him in the first place. “And you got caught up in it. You got crushed by all the debris and— Me and Hunk managed to get you out alright and back into the Castle but you weren’t breathing and—” Lance breath hitches and Keith feels rather than hears the steadying breath Lance takes next. “You were bleeding so much Keith. _So_ much.” Another steadying breath.  “I’ve never seen Shiro so worried.”

A small part of Keith feels slightly guilty that someone might enter the pod room to check on him and find him missing, but he pushes it out of his mind, making a mental note to knock on Shiro’s door as soon as he’s done here with Lance. “How long was I in there for?”

“Four days,” Lance says. “Shiro just sat there the entire time, you know? He only left about an hour or two before you woke up because Allura and Coran made him.” Lance laughs, but it sounds a little empty. “It was actually quite funny. Coran threatened to spank him.”

“ _What_?”

“I don’t think he was being serious,” Lance says. “Said he’d been reading an ‘ _Earthling Parenting Manual_ ’ he picked up at that Space Mall. Anyway,” he pulls away from Keith so he can look him in the eye properly. “Here we are.”

“Here we are,” Keith agrees, gaze dropping to Lance’s lips for half a second. “And— And where is _here_?”

Lance’s brows furrow imperceptibly for a moment before his entire expression smoothens out and makes way for a bright, slightly shy smile. “Well. You _did_ kiss me.”

“You kissed me too,” Keith points out, wondering where Lance is going with this.

“ _After_ you kissed me,” Lance says, voice adopting that teasing tone Keith knows only too well. “I’m not complaining. It _was_ about time. What made you change your mind?” He grin sharpens, turning more sultry than shy as he dips his head till his lips are only an inch or two away from Keith’s. “My dashing good looks finally prove too much for you?”

“No. But, almost dying will do that you,” Keith says, voice deadpan. He fights the urge to laugh when Lance makes an almost pained sounding noise and tries to lean back. Keith wraps a hand around his wrist to hold him in place and stop him. He’s tired of dancing around Lance; tired of the unsaid thoughts creating a wedge between them - not when the alternative is so much better. “I don’t want to have any regrets.”

“Oh,” Lance says, tips of his ears slightly pink. “Me too.”

“So—” Keith tilts his chin upwards, partly in defiance - almost daring Lance to disagree with him and turn him down - and partly in invitation. He can still feel Lance’s phantom lips ghosting over his own from earlier and he’d be lying to himself if he didn’t admit he’s eager to feel the real thing again. “Are we on the same page?”

Lance’s eyes seem to twinkle and Keith feels his heartbeat begin to race. “I’d like to think so.”

 _Not good enough_. Keith needs clarification; needs to hear it loud and clear from Lance. “And what page is that?”

Lance laughs, leans forward, presses a soft kiss against Keith’s lips and pulls away just as Keith moves to deepen the kiss. “I like you. A lot. I have done for a while now. And,” Lance pauses and clicks his tongue. “I want to be with you.” His cheeks are so red now, Keith thinks he could probably give Red a run for her money.

“Be with me?”

“ _Keith_.”

This time it’s Keith’s turn to laugh. “I want the same thing,” Keith says, ducking his head to try and hide his own rapidly reddening cheeks. “With you, I mean.”

“Cool,” Lance leans back into the chair and pretends to stroke at stubble forming on his chin. “So you’re— I mean, so _we’re_ — We’re boyfriends? Yeah?”

“I mean,” Keith thinks back to the ring stuffed in the back of his drawer, gathering dust as it sits hidden behind a pair of socks and an old towel. “I think— Well. _Technically_ —”

“Oh God,” Lance says, and Keith can see the realisation dawning on him. “We’re _husbands_.”

“Yeah,” Keith snorts. “I guess so.”

“This is ridiculous,” Lance half laughs, half sighs and runs a hand down his face. “Can you believe I almost forgot about that? We got married. We’re married. You’re my husband.”

“And you’re mine.”

“Absolutely ridiculous,” Lance says again, lolling his head to the side until they’re almost touching again. “My mum is gonna kill me.” He pauses and his eyes widen a little. “ _Shiro_ is gonna kill the both of us.”

“Probably,” Keith says with a shrug. “But, only if we tell him.”

Lance raises a brow. “Are you implying…”

“That we don’t tell him,” Keith says firmly. “We don’t tell anyone.” He hesitates for a fraction of a second before he leans forwards, grabs Lance’s free hand - the one not still draped loosely over his shoulder - entwines their fingers together, and gives it a quick squeeze. “Is it selfish if I say I kind of just want to enjoy this for a little while?”

Being blasted into space at 17-years-old means Keith has been deprived of a few of the usual teenager milestones most would take for granted. He’s never gone a date, never gone to a dance, never even had his first kiss until about five minutes ago - Keith _refuses_ to count those two minutes of awkwardness back at the Garrison with one of his fellow classmates as his first kiss - so he thinks the universe owes him this; owes him some downtime to enjoy the things he’s missed because he’s been flying around in a sentient lion saving world after world for the last three years; owes him at least a few days of peace with just him and Lance without having to worry about their fellow Paladin’s peeking in on them every few seconds.

“Careful, Keith,” Lance hums. He squeezes Keith’s hand back and offers him a slow, almost shy smile. Keith isn’t used to this type of smile on Lance. Over the year he’s become accustomed to wide, infectious smiles that brighten up not only Lance’s face but the entire room but Keith thinks he might prefer this one because this bashful smile feels like a secret, one between just him and Lance. “People might start to say I’m a bad influence on you.”

“You are a bad influence on me.”

“Okay, Mr. Let-Me-Just-Steal-A-Spaceship-In-The-Middle-Of-The-Night-To-Try-And-Run—”

“That was one time,” Keith says. “Nearly two years ago. And you can’t talk about bad influences.”

Lance gasps dramatically and pretends to swoon. “Implying I’m _not_ the most responsible and sensible person in this entire Castle?”

“You stole a cow.”

“Firstly,” Lance says, lifting a finger in the air. “Kaltenecker _wanted_ to come with me. And secondly— I actually don’t have a second point, but either way, I’m pretty sure running away in the middle of the night tops accidentally acquiring a cow.”

“You did propose to me, though,” Keith says.

“Yeah,” Lance says, and there’s that slow, bashful smile again, the one that gets Keith’s heart racing. “I probably did.”

“Probably?”

Lance nods. He’s avoiding Keith’s gaze now, his cheeks red and the tips of his ears pink, and Keith would be lying if he didn’t admit that it’s probably the cutest thing he’s ever seen. “I mean, it’s not like I haven’t thought about it. Not marrying you, exactly,” he adds quickly when Keith shoots him a surprised look. “Just– You know? Being with you, being your _boyfriend_.” He shrugs and sticks out his hand, stretching his fingers out in front of them. He’s not wearing the ring, but Keith can clearly imagine it sitting on his ring finger, and he thinks Lance is probably imagining the same thing as well. “I guess Drunk Lance just doesn’t know how to do things in moderation.”

“Sober Lance doesn’t know how to do things in moderation.”

Lance raises a brow. “Let’s be honest, Keith. If I hadn’t kickstarted this relationship by proposing to you, we’d still be practically strangers.”

Keith frowns. He’s not sure if Lance is playing with him or not. “I— I kissed _you_. Literally five minutes ago.”

“Allegedly,” Lance says, lips twitching. _Ah_ , Keith thinks, _definitely teasing_. “I’m just saying, there’s no pro—”

The door to the healing pod room slides open and they have less than two seconds to leap away from each other before an incredibly tired looking Shiro is entering the room. That pang of guilt hits Keith again as he takes in the bags under the Shiro’s eyes and the tired gait he’s adopted. Lance seems to sense his discomfort, because he quickly reaches out, squeezes Keith’s leg gently, and then pulls away, standing up to give Shiro space to sit next to him.

“I thought Allura locked you in your room,” Lance says conversationally, watching as Shiro throws himself into the chair next to Keith and immediately begins inspecting him.

“She did,” Shiro says, eyes scanning Keith carefully for any sign of injury. “I had to use the mice to distract her.”

Lance whistles under his breath. “Deceiving the Princess and using the mice as accomplices? Shiro, there may be hope for you yet.” He hovers beside them both for a few seconds before he claps his hands together and leans towards the exit. “Think I’m gonna go get some sleep. It’s, um,” Lance pauses and shoots Keith a smile, just for him. “I’m glad you’re alright, Keith.”

“Thanks,” Keith murmurs, dipping his head so Shiro can’t see the blush steadily creeping up his next. “I’ll see you later?”

Lance grins, wide and bright, and nods. “Definitely.”

 

* * *

 

Lance has got this look on his face that promises nothing but trouble and Keith is struck with the semi-horrifying realisation that he is _smitten_. He bites his inner cheek to stop the smile he can feel tugging at his lips and instead tries to refocus his attention on Allura. He fails.

She’s giving them the rundown about the planet they’re going to be arriving at shortly, but the only thing Keith can think about is Lance stood beside him, vibrating softly with barely concealed excitement, that coy grin curving the corners of his lips. Keith thinks Lance might just kill him.

“Is that alright, everyone? Keith?”

Keith blinks and turns to face Allura again. He hadn’t even realised he’d turned away from her. “Uh,” Keith clears his throat. In his periphery he can see Lance trying to smother his laughter with the sleeves of his jacket. “Run it past me one last time?” Shiro shoots him an obviously displeased glance and Keith tries his best to fix an innocent ‘ _I was totally paying attention_ ’ expression on his face.

“I was just explaining what Coran and I believe will be the best course of action for proceeding with the diplomatic envoys on Amis when we land,” Allura says, frowning slightly. “If Coran is remembering correctly, Amissian’s tend to be the agreeable sort, but we don’t want to leave anything to chance.” She sighs, pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and chews slightly for a second or two. “We really do need this alliance.”

“At last count, there are estimated to be around 3.5 million Amissian’s scattered across the universe,” Coran says. “If we can guarantee the support of their government on Amis, they could prove to be very valuable allies for us in the future.”

“So that means let Allura, Coran and Shiro handle everything,” Pidge says. She rolls her eyes a little and pretends to yawn. “We just have to stand there and look pretty.”

“And competent,” Hunk adds. “Don’t forget competent.”

“Is that all understood?” Allura asks.

“No funny business,” Keith says with a nod, pointedly ignoring the suspicious look Shiro is sending his way. “Got it.”

 

 

By the time Allura and Coran have finished briefing them about each individual member of Amis’ diplomatic envoy and have given them permission to go back to their rooms and freshen up a little before they land, Keith is _tired_. The thought of having to spend another few hours on Amis, cosying up to government officials and pretending like he understands more than 5% of the discussions going on between Allura and the diplomats is a mildly depressing one.

“Cheer up, Samurai,” Lance says, jogging down the corridor to catch up with Keith.

Keith purses his lips and tries to speed up, but Lance’s long legs make it ridiculously easy for him and, before Keith knows it, they’re striding down the corridor side by side. “No.”

“No you won’t cheer up? Because that’s _mighty_ Grinch-like of you, even more than usual actually. Or is that a no to—”

“It’s a no to whatever it is you have planned.”

“I don’t have anything planned,” Lance says in a voice that is far too innocent for Keith to believe him. “Well,” he pauses and makes a humming noise. “I _do_ have a couple of things planned.”

Keith snorts. “And the answer is still n—”

Lance reaches out and snakes his hand around Keith’s wrist, pulling him to an abrupt halt. Keith’s heartbeat starts to race but let it never be said that Keith Kogane doesn’t know how to play it cool. He clears his throat and raises an unimpressed brow. “Lance.”

“Keith,” Lance says. His eyes are twinkling and Keith knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that he’s laughing at him. Lance takes a few steps forwards until Keith’s back is brushing against the wall and stares at him for a few seconds. Just when Keith is beginning to wonder if maybe he’s just messing with him, Lance tilts his head a fraction until he’s hovering just above his lips. Lance snickers when Keith makes an impatient sounding noise in the back of his throat, but he doesn’t move to dip his head any further to close the gap. Instead, he tilts his head to the side and raises a brow, mirroring Keith’s own expression.

“You’re an ass,” Keith murmurs, before he lifts his own head, closes the gap between them and presses their lips together. They’ve been doing this for a couple of months now, sneaking around the others, stealing moments like this in dark corridors and in the dead of night when they should be sleeping, so Keith thinks he should probably be used to it all. Used to the feel of Lance’s lips sliding against his own, soft and warm as calloused hands reach up to cup either side of his face. But it’s different now. They’re not just two friend, two teammates, awkwardly dancing around each other, pretending like what they have isn’t a whole lot more than friendship. They’re together - official, _married -_ and it’s still so new that Keith sometimes has trouble wrapping his head around it.

“You love this ass,” Lance says when they finally pull away from each other. Keith feels a strange wave of pride shoot through him as he takes Lance in. His cheeks are flushed, his lips red, and his breathing is noticeably heavier than usual.

“False,” Keith says, gently pushing Lance backwards so they can step out of the dark corner they’ve managed to find themselves in. “I tolerate your ass.”

“ _Rude_ ,” Lance sniffs, kiss-swollen lips twisting into a pout. “And after I went through so much trouble for this evening.”

“This evening?” Keith asks warily. Lance has this look on his face, a look at has Keith feeling equal parts trepidation and smitten every time he so much as glances at him. A look that promises pure _chaos_ if left unchecked.

“Did you— I can’t _believe_ —” Lance clutches at his chest and pretends to gasp. “You forgot about Date Night, didn’t you?”

“Date Night?” Keith frowns. “Really? I didn’t think we’d be—” He huffs out a frustrated breath. They get so very few chances to simply be together while in the Castle, and Keith makes careful note of all their scheduled downtime so they can make use of it as best they can. “We’re on Amis tonight, you know that right?”

Lance winks. “I’m aware.”

“And you’re also aware that Allura wants us on our best behaviour?”

“Keith, babe, when am I _not_ on my best behaviour?”

Keith immediately think of a hundred and one different scenarios he could bring up right now, but then Lance is kissing him again and he discovers that he doesn’t really care.

 

 

Surprisingly, Lance _is_ on his best behaviour down on Amis. He acts like the perfect ambassador of Voltron, nodding along sagely to everything their diplomatic envoys say, laughing at all the right moments, even stopping to pose for a photograph with some of the local children they pass as they’re guided through the streets. This only serves to make Keith even more suspicious.

He keeps an eye on Lance the entire evening, watching for a sign or a clue that he’s finally going to go off script and pull something so ridiculous, it’ll either get them kicked off Amis forever or, at the very least, earn them both a fierce chewing out from Shiro and Allura. But Lance doesn’t crack.

The introductory meeting with the diplomatic envoy comes and goes, along with the tour around the capital city and even the fancy dinner where they have to wear traditional Amissian garb that’s cut a little too strangely to be entirely comfortable, and Lance shows no sign of cracking.

Keith frowns and stabs at his dinner with his fork. He’s not entirely sure what he’s eating but he can’t find it in himself to care. Lance is sat directly opposite him, squashed between Coran and a very friendly Amissian called Junah. Every now and then he’ll glance up, meet Keith’s gaze and grin that shit-eating grin that says a million things at once. Says ‘ _see, babe, I’m on my best behaviour_ ’; says ‘ _you know, you look really good in that suit_ ’ says; ‘ _I know something you don’t know_ ’ and it’s infuriating.

Keith stabs at his dinner again.

“Everything alright over there?” Shiro asks, nudging him slightly with his elbow. “One more stab like that and I think you might cut right through that plate.”

“I’m fine,” Keith says, scowling across the table where Lance is currently gulping down a drink to try and hide his laughter. “Perfectly fine.”

Shiro eyes him warily for a few more seconds and looks like he’s about to say something else, but Hunarah, the leader of the diplomatic envoy, is suddenly standing up and tapping at her glass to try and snatch the attention of everyone in the room. Shiro’s gaze lingers on Keith for a half a second longer before he makes a humming sort of noise and then turns to face Hunarah, face a mask of rapt attention as she makes her closing speech.

Keith tries to mimic Shiro’s actions, but he finds himself quickly distracted, once again, by Lance. Specifically, by Lance kicking him under the table. Keith jerks his leg back and scowls at him, but Lance only grins before he tilts his head to the side and imperceptibly nods towards the door at the furthest end of the room.

Keith shakes his head firmly. _No_.

Lance juts his lip out in a fake pout and nods a little more aggressively at the door. _Please_?

And Keith? Keith knows he should say no; knows that he should turn away from Lance, ignore him for the rest of the night and focus on being an ambassador of Voltron like Allura had asked for, but he can’t. Because Lance has this twinkle in his eye that promises a world of fun and Keith wants nothing more than to experience that world with him.

 _Fine_ , he thinks, pretending to nod reluctantly towards the door even as the corners of his lips curve up into a pleased smile.

 

 

Hunarah dismisses them an hour or so later and Keith and Lance take advantage of the chaos in the room as everyone else stands up in their seats, yawning and sated from the seven-course meal, to move quietly to the back of the room and slip out of the side exit door.

“Allura’s gonna kill us,” Keith says, voice a careful deadpan as Lance immediately threads their fingers together and drags him down the small corridor. “I hope you know that.”

“Only if she finds out,” Lance says. The corridor is pitch black, save for the moonlight filtering in through the windows that line the corridor every few seconds, and the light bathes Lance in a bluish glow that has him looking almost ethereal and it makes Keith’s stomach flip. “What?” Lance says, shooting Keith an amused smile as he glances back him. “Why so quiet? Normally, that’s where you say something like—”

“You look really good,” Keith murmurs. They pass another window and Lance is glowing again and Keith– Keith grinds to an abrupt halt and pulls Lance into him, crushing their chests together. They haven’t had any real time alone recently and Keith is suddenly very, very aware that only silence surrounds them right now. “Really good.”

Lance laughs, and they’re close enough now that Keith can smell the mint he’d obviously popped into his mouth at the dinner table. It doesn’t smell entirely like an Earth mint, there’s something a little off about it that Keith can’t quite put his finger on. “You don’t look too shabby yourself,” Lance says, voice lower than usual as he stares at Keith from beneath hooded lids. “This suit _really_ makes your ass look—”

“I’m serious,” Keith says, rolling his eyes even as Lance snakes his arms around Keith’s waist and pulls them even closer together than before.

“So am I.”

Keith gets half a second’s warning before Lance is kissing him and that stomach flipping sensation intensifies. He hums into the kiss, lifts his hands to cup Lance’s face and tilts it slightly, deepening the kiss until he can feel it in the pit of his stomach. Lance takes a step towards Keith, walking him backwards until he bumps against the wall, and threads his fingers through Keith’s head, tugging lightly at he goes. Keith has spent the last two months sneaking kisses from Lance - the odd peck here, a soft brush of the lips there - but it’s never been like this, not since their first kiss back in the healing pod chamber. There’s always been the fear that someone would barge into the room and stumble across them tangled in one another, but here? On Amis, in a dark corridor nobody else would possibly be foolish enough to trespass into? It feels like they have all the time in the world and Keith is _relishing_ in it. He bites at Lance’s bottom lip and sucks it a few times, grinning into the kiss when Lance moans slightly and grips him a little tighter. Keith feels like he’s on fire as Lance’s hand snakes under a gap in his suit and his fingers scrape against the skin on his sides. Lance’s every touch feels like a burn in the best kind of way and he never wants it to end.

Sadly, it does have to end and all too soon they’re pulling apart from each other. Keith feels breathless, like he’s just returned from running a marathon, and his heart is still beating at a hundred miles an hour.

“We should probably get moving,” Lance murmurs. His cheeks are flushed, his lips slightly swollen, and his chest is heaving. Keith imagines he probably doesn’t look much better. “Or we’re going to be late.”

“Late?” Keith asks as Lance pulls him out of the corner they’ve managed to wedge themselves in and hurries down the corridor. “Did you—” He feels a smile tugging at his lips and he bites his inner cheek to stop it from spreading. “Did you _actually_ plan something?”

“Of course I did,” Lance sniffs, glancing behind him briefly to shoot Keith a faux haughty glare. “Do you really think I risked pissing off Allura just to drag you into a dark corridor to kiss?”

“Well—”

“Because I would _definitely_ do something like that,” Lance says brightly, sticking his tongue out at Keith. “But I’ve got bigger plans for you tonight, babe.”

“Why does that fill me with dread?” Keith says, even as he feels excitement beginning to bubble up inside him.

“Because you’re a party pooper,” Lance says. “Now _ssh_ ,” he presses a finger to his lips as they come to the end of the corridor and Lance pokes his head around the corner. Keith is fairly certain they’re going to get caught and braces himself for the inevitable, but it doesn’t come. Lance’s escape plan (which, in all actuality, isn’t all that intricate and mostly involves mostly sticking to the shadows and slipping past staff) goes off without a hitch and, before he knows it, they’re easily strolling down a main road, hand in hand and without the worry of being caught somewhere they shouldn’t be looming over them.

“See,” Lance says, grinning happily as they turn a corner and find themselves stood at the back of a large crowd of people making their way into a heavily wooded area up ahead. “That wasn’t too hard, was it?”

“I guess not,” Keith murmurs. He knows he probably shouldn’t let his guard down entirely, that it would be too easy for someone to notice Keith and Lance are missing amongst all the chaos back in the embassy building, but with each step forwards he finds his guard lowering further still. He inches a little closer to Lance until their arms are bumping against each other as they push through the crowd. “Would be nice if you filled me in on your plan, though.”

“Where’s the fun in that? But,” Lance says, glancing down and laughing at the wholly unimpressed look Keith is sending his way. “Because I’m such a nice _husband_ , I’ll fill you in.” Keith’s stomach does a funny flip when Lance says the word ‘husband’, but it’s a pleasant sort of sensation, one that Keith wouldn’t mind feeling again. “I was hanging out with Coran last night and he was telling me pretty much everything he knows about Amis.” Lance wrinkles his nose a little and shakes his head. “Most of it was pretty boring, just political stuff but then he mentioned this festival and— Well.” The crowd in front of them has been moving at a steady pace for the last couple of minutes, but now they’ve reached a clearing in the road, its begun to disperse enough for Keith to see up ahead.

It’s only due to years of keeping up a carefully curated facade of aloofness that Keith manages to keep his mouth from falling slack open, but only just. “Lance, I—”

“It’s a migration festival,” Lance says, looking particularly pleased with himself as he stares at the scene unfolding in front of them. “According to Coran, there’s this really rare species that are native to Amis and about this time every year they migrate from the Northern forests to the Southern ones and,” he shrugs and gestures to the forest in front of them. “Welcome to Amis’ most Northernly forest.”

Keith’s breath hitches in his throat as he watches several fish-like creatures floating above the trees. They’re much bigger than the average fish back on Earth, with long, colourful almost wing-like fins that float behind them. Some of them change colour as they float; illuminating the trees and the forest below in blues and greens, then reds and whites, then purples and— Keith can’t help the gasp that spills from his lips as the forest erupts in an explosion of colour as a fish, probably bigger than Red’s head, comes pushing out from behind the trees.

“Coran said they’re called ‘ _cienaga_ ’,” Lance says. He’s not looking at Keith, instead he’s staring transfixed at the largest fish still floating above their heads. It’s scales are luminescent and it casts a rainbow glow over the ground below it. Another one emerges from the tops of the treetops. It’s not as big as the previous one, but this one is a bright fluorescent blue and red, mixing slap bang in the middle to make a comforting purple hue. “I think anyway. They’re pretty much just giant fish that live in the sky above treetops. And yeah, I thought maybe you’d wanna go watch?” He drags his gaze away from the largest _cienaga_ and fixes it on Keith. “Is that— Is that, alright?”

“It’s perfect, Lance,” Keith says, and he means it too. Routinely saving the universe from a genocidal race of warmongering aliens doesn’t leave much time for things like this and his entire body feels warm. Belatedly, Keith realises that he doesn’t think he’s ever felt either happiness or contentment like this in a long, long while and he feels a wave of gratitude towards Lance for it. They’re still holding hands, but it’s somehow not enough. They’ve never kissed in public before, only in secluded corners of the Castle where there’s no chance of anyone seeing, but Keith is already tilting his head and catching Lance’s lips with his own before he even has the chance to think about it.

“Good,” Lance says, cheeks flush, voice noticeably hoarser than usual when they pull away from each other. “That’s uh— Yeah. Good. Do you wanna?” He gestures towards an opening in the forest when Keith can just about make out a pathway of lanterns. “I think we can go further in? Get up close and personal with the _cienaga_?”

“Sounds good,” Keith says as he tugs Lance towards the forest opening. “And, uh,” he clears his throat. Lance looks amused, but he doesn’t say anything, simply allows Keith to drag him forwards and patiently waits for him to get the words out in his own time. “Thanks? This is— I mean, I really just— I really like you, Lance.”

“I really like you too, Keith,” Lance says, dipping his head to ghost his lips against Keith’s forehead. “A lot.”

Keith grins. He can feel warmth spreading through every inch of his body, from the tips of his fingers right down to his toes, and he knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that it’s because of Lance. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

 

* * *

 

“You seem happy.”

Keith peeks up from the book he’s been engrossed in for the last half an hour or so. He and Shiro are alone in the lounge area, both splayed across the biggest sofa making use of a rare and brief moment of downtime. Judging by the occasional yelps and laughter he can hear from down the corridor, Keith thinks Hunk, Pidge and Lance are in the kitchen trying their best to make something edible from their limited supplies. He frowns as he glances at Shiro. “Is that bad?”

“No, of course not,” Shiro says, pausing the television so he can turn to face Keith properly. “It’s just, I haven’t seen you this happy in a while.”

“I’m always happy,” Keith says, genuinely confused as to what Shiro could possibly be getting at. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Shiro shrugs. “Nothing. Don’t worry.”

“Right,” Keith says. He picks his book up again and settles into the couch, ready to resume the riveting tale of _Elrika and Meliya_ , two star crossed lovers separated by a galaxy of stars. It’s not his usual choice of genre, but he’s already raided Coran’s hidden stash of Earth books several times and this is the only one he hasn’t reread at least four times. It’s actually really good and Keith has become surprisingly invested in their romance.

“How’s Lance?”

Keith drops the book and very nearly falls off the sofa. “What?”

“How’s Lance?” Shiro says again, voice deceptively innocent. “You’ve been getting along really well lately.”

 _It’d be weird if we didn’t_. It’s been six months since their relationship became _official_ \- though, still a secret - and Keith fights the urge to laugh out loud. Instead he shrugs, trying to adopt that nonchalant air Lance has perfected so well over the years. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Oh, yeah, it’s great,” Shiro says, with a nonchalant shrug of his own that absolutely doesn’t fool Keith for even a second. “I’m glad to see you’re getting along.”

Keith wrinkles his nose and swats at Shiro’s shoulder with his book. “Of course we get along. We’re—” He pauses, only for a second, but it’s enough for Shiro to notice and Keith doesn’t miss the way his eyes widen with interest. “We’re teammates,” he says firmly, hoping to cut Shiro off before he even gets started. “I get on with everyone. I thought you’d be happy about that.”

“I am, I am, I just—” Shiro shakes his head and waves a dismissive hand in Keith’s direction. “Nevermind. Forget I said anything.” He turns away from Keith, unpauses the television and settles back into the couch and Keith is left wondering why he suddenly feels so guilty.

 

 

It doesn’t take Keith long to figure out why he feels so guilty and, once he comes to that conclusion, it takes him only a fraction of the time to decide what he’s going to do about it.

“I love this part,” Lance murmurs, poking Keith lightly in the stomach to get his attention. It’s been a rare quiet few days in Castle and they’re taking advantage of the lack of aliens in distress or Galra enemies tailing them to spend some quality time with each other. Sort of. The prospect of not having to be on high alert every second of the day has sent the inhabitants of the Castle into a weird sort of frenzy and Keith has spent every last waking minute of the last few days being pulled in different directions by his fellow Paladin’s. He spent the first day in the lounge room with Shiro, avoiding awkward conversations but otherwise simply enjoying each other’s company in a way they haven’t really been able to do since they were first blasted into the space.

The second day was spent with Pidge in her den of a room, helping her put the finishing touches on some device she’s spent the last few weeks slaving over. Keith still isn’t really sure how much help he actually was, but Pidge is good company and they’d had fun sitting amongst all the wires and cables chatting the day away.

He’d spent the third day lounging around in the control room with Allura and Coran. That had been mostly unintentional, he’d just meant to pass through to grab something he’d forgotten a few days prior, but they’d both been in there reminiscing about Altea and, before Keith knew it, he’d been sucked into a conversation about an apparently _extremely_ rebellious Teenage Allura and Coran in his ‘ _Hey Day_ ’ - Coran’s exact words.

It’s not until late at night on the fourth day of tentative peace that Keith and Lance are finally able to grab a few minutes for themselves. It’s actually so late, Keith is struggling to keep his eyes open, but moments like this are so rare for them and he doesn’t want to waste even a second of it sleeping.

They’re in Keith’s bedroom, sprawled out across his bed watching _Predator_. Lance had had it downloaded onto his phone when they’d first left for space and Coran and Pidge had worked together to transfer it onto a disk compatible with Altean visual communication devices. Keith doesn’t particularly see the appeal in the movie, but Lance insists it’s one of his favourites and looks absolutely scandalised when Keith reveals he’s never seen it.

“ _Get to the choppahhhhh_ ,” Lance shouts, in unison with Arnold Schwarzenegger as he rolls around on the ground, panting heavily. “ _Aaaaaaaaah_.”

“How many times have you watched this?” Keith says, unimpressed. He quickly swipes the remote control out of the way the second he sees Lance’s fingers inching towards it, probably hoping to rewind the moment and replay it another 47 times.

“I went through a phase as a kid,” Lance says. Lance is lying with his back pressed against Keith’s stomach, but Keith can hear the smile on his lips. “My brother had a sleepover one night and I snuck down and watched it through the gaps in our stairs and ever since then I was hooked. I’ve got like 4 copies of it back home.”

“Four?”

“In case of emergencies,” Lance says sagely.

“ _Predator_ related emergencies?”

“Exactly, babe,” Lance says. He rolls around so he’s facing Keith and gently taps his face a few times. “Now you’re getting it.” Usually, Keith would have a comeback on the tip of his tongue or, at the very least, he’d roll his eyes and shove Lance away and tell him to pay attention to the shitty movie he’s making them watch, but this time Keith finds himself distracted.

Lance is wearing his ring.

They both are, actually.

He’s not sure who first suggested it - he’s not even sure someone _did_ suggest it and it’s not something they’ve both just mutually decided to do - but they’ve taken to wearing their rings when they’re alone together.

Keith reaches up and threads his fingers through Lance’s own, their rings clinking quietly as they brush against each other. As he stares at their rings, he’s hit with that feeling of guilt from earlier and he sighs as he pulls away.

“What’s wrong?” Lance asks, pushing himself up so he can follow Keith even as he moves backwards, sinking into his pillow. “We can watch something else if—”

“I think we should tell them,” Keith says, already regretting the words the second they come spilling from his lips.

“Huh?”

“Shiro knows,” Keith says heavily. “About us, I mean.” He thinks back to their conversation when they’d first returned from Brilas, and those knowing looks Shiro kept sending his way. “I think he’s probably known for a while.”

“Oh,” Lance runs a hand down his face and sighs. “That’s um—” His voice sounds funny, slightly hoarse and strained, like there’s something caught in his throat. “Are you _sure_?”

Keith lifts his hands to cup Lance’s face and uses his thumb to rub soothing circles just above his cheekbones. “Are you alright?”

Lance makes a noise that sounds more like a squeak than anything else. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just. Shiro’s your _brother_.”

Keith frowns. “I...know?”

“Your brother, Keith,” Lance waves a frantic hand in front of Keith’s face, narrowly missing swiping his nose. “Your _older_ brother. And you want to introduce me as your _boyfriend_? That’s, uh,” Lance swallows nervously. “That’s a lot.”

“Actually,” Keith says cheerfully. He adjust his grip on Lance’s face, holding him a little tighter so he can’t wriggle free and get away. “I want to introduce you as my husband.”

There’s a very, very, _very_ long pause and, for a second, Keith wonders if maybe he’s broken Lance. But the silence doesn’t last for long and soon Lance is pressing their faces together until their noses are bumping.

“Keith,” Lance says, voice a deadly whisper. Keith doesn’t think he’s ever seen him look so serious before outside of battle. “Are you _trying_ to get me killed?”

 

 

Despite the late hour, they find their fellow Paladin's and Allura and Coran in the lounge room, watching what Keith thinks is supposed to be bad horror movie. The actors on the screen are speaking in an alien language Keith doesn't recognise, but he supposes groups of teenage aged characters running screaming through dense forests during the middle of the night must be a universal trope because the scene unfolding in front of him looks familiar even if the actors all have five arms and three sets of eyes.

"Keith, Lance," Allura says brightly, waving them both over as they enter the room. She's sat on the largest sofa, a face mask on, her hair wrapped in a colourful scarf, and has bright purple, fluffy lion slippers on her feet. Pidge is sat next to her on her left, looking almost identical except her slippers are green and she has a bowl of popcorn in her lap. Hunk is on her other side, also wearing a face mask and his own pair of lion slippers. Coran and Shiro are squashed together on the second largest sofa. Neither of them are wearing face masks, but they're both wrapped in incredibly warm looking nightgowns and, for some reason, Shiro's hair has been braid. Badly. _Terribly_ actually, but still. "We were wondering where you two were."

"You missed face masks, Lance," Hunk calls. He shuffles to the side and pats the space next to him, an open invitation for Lance to take a seat. "I tried to come and get you, but you weren't in your room and Allura only had three masks so..." Hunk shrugs and offers Lance an apologetic smile.

"You snooze you lose, boys," Pidge says through a mouthful of popcorn.

"Snooze you lose," Coran says thoughtfully, stroking at his moustache. It's only then that Keith realises his moustache has been braided (badly) as well. "Is that an Earthling proverb?"

"Oh  _yeah_ ," Pidge says with a sly little grin. "One of our most famous. There's also ' _in a while crocodile_ ' and ' _see you later all_ —"

" _Pidge,_ " Shiro says, rolling his eyes as he reaches across the gap between the two couches to swat gently at Pidge's head. "Stop teaching Coran about Earth."

"But he wants to know!" Pidge insists. She grabs a fistful of popcorn and starts flicking it in Shiro's direction. "Who am I to stop the man from learning?"

"Last week you convinced the Princess that all humans wear sparkly leggings all the time."

"That was Lance," Pidge says.

"And I like my sparkly leggings," Allura says with a sniff, like she's almost offended Shiro would dare to say a bad word about them. "Thank you, Lance."

Lance beams and pretends to bow. "You're welcome, Princess."

Deciding that they're coming dangerously close to losing control of the situation and descending into another debate about what is and what isn't appropriate to tell Allura and Coran about Earth, Keith takes Lance's hand in his own, grips it tightly, and takes a step forwards until they're both standing in front of the television. "We have something we want to tell you." Keith watches as five pairs of eyes glance downwards to stare at their entwined hands and then dart back upwards, slightly wider than before.

"Oh my," Allura says, pressing her hand to her heart.

"Congratulations, my dear boys," Coran says, beaming from ear to ear. Keith thinks he might be one step away from actually applauding them, but he's grateful for the genuine kindness emanating off him anyway.

" _Nice_ ," Hunk says, and he looks ridiculously pleased, like he's just found out that they've finally stopped Lotor and brought much deserved peace back to the universe.

"Took you long enough," Pidge murmurs, her entire facade a carefully curated mask of disinterest, but Keith can plainly see the quirk of her lips even as she reaches for another fistful of popcorn and stuffs it into her mouth.

Shiro doesn't say anything, but he doesn't need to. Keith has had 20 years to commit every one of Shiro's expression to memory, and he knows what soft eyes and a softer smile means when it's directed at him. He's happy for him, _proud_ of him and it only serves to spur Keith on. He squeezes Lance's hand again, almost as a warning for him, takes a deep breath and continues on. "We also have something else we want to tell you." He watches again, vaguely amused but mostly nervous, as five pairs of eyes drop down to stare at their entwined hands, only this time their gaze lingers just long enough for it to settle on the rings nestled on their fingers. And, just incase that's not clear enough, Keith decides to spell it out for them as well. "We got married."

"Oh my," Allura says, hand still pressed to her heart.

"Are—" Coran pauses and looks between Lance and Keith and Shiro, before turning his gaze back onto Lance and Keith again. "Are congratulations still in order?"

"Uh," Hunk says, blinking rapidly as he stares at the rings. "Lance?"

"Holy  _shit_ ," Pidge breathes. "I can't believe yo—"

Shiro sighs, long and hard, and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Keith. Lance. Please feel free to tell me this is a joke." Silence. Shiro sighs again. "Anytime you're ready."

Lance fidgets awkwardly on the spot and clears his throat. "I— This is—" He shakes his head and shoots Keith a pleading look. " _Keith_?"

"It's not a joke," Keith says quickly, sparing Lance from Shiro's glare. "We, uh, we got married." _There_ , he's said it. Nice and fast, like ripping off a plaster. "Back on Brilas."

"Brilas?" Allura says with a frown. "The resort planet?"

"I don't remember that," Hunk says, looking more confused than Keith has ever seen him. "I mean, I don't really remember a lot about that night, but I'm pretty sure I'd remember  _that_."

"You'd think so," Lance says with a laugh - a laugh that quickly turns into a cough when Shiro's gaze lands on him again. "We don't remember much either, we just woke up and—"

Lance is cut off by the sound of Pidge bursting into hysterical laughter and then promptly toppling off the couch and onto the floor. Everyone watches, identical looks of confusion and worry etched onto their faces, as Pidge rolls around on the floor, body shaking and convulsing as she rides out the wave of laughter.

"Pidge?" Allura asks, leaning forwards to peer at the still laughing Pidge. "Is— Is everything alright?"

"Everything is  _perfect_ , Princess," Pidge says, though it takes her a few times to get the sentence out because she's still laughing uncontrollably. "I don't think I've ever been happier."

"I'm glad  _someone's_ happy," Shiro says, and Keith winces at the edge he can hear in his voice. He hasn't heard that voice in years, not since they were kids and Keith was a little too reckless in their father's garage. "Because  _I'm_ definitely not."

"Why?" Coran says, looking visibly confused, though not for the same reasons as everyone else. "Are marriages not a reason to celebrate on Earth? I was under the impression that they were, but I may be wrong. I'll have to adjust my notes."

"Marriages  _are_ a reason to celebrate," Hunk says. "Just, not—"

"You didn't even  _tell_ anyone," Shiro says, and Keith realises he's not angry. He's  _hurt_. He thinks that might be worse. "I know you like your privacy and you usually tell me things in your own time, but,  _Keith_. You got married and you didn't tell anyone? Didn't even tell  _me_?"

"If it makes you feel any better," Lance pipes up. His voice sounds smaller than usual and it only serves to make Keith feel even worse. "We don't actually remember getting married ourselves, so..." He trails off and pretends to stare at a spot on the carpet beneath their feet as Shiro's glare intensifies.

"No," Shiro says bluntly. "Funnily enough, that doesn't make me feel any better."

"Everyone calm down," Pidge says, grabbing a handful of popcorn out of her bowl and tossing it at both Shiro and Lance and Keith. Her eyes are still wet with tears from her laughing fit, but Keith is relieved to see she's no longer convulsing on the carpet. "They're not married."

"Um, yeah we are," Lance says, dropping Keith's hand to wiggle his ring finger in front of Pidge's face. "Keith liked it and he put a ring on it.  _Voila_."

"No," Pidge says firmly as she leans forwards, grabs Lance's hand and tugs him towards Coran. "No he didn't. Coran, what's this ring made of?"

Coran hesitates for a second before he dips his head and inspects the ring on Lance's finger. Keith watches, more than a little confused, as Coran spins the ring on Lance's finger, stares at it for a few second, sniffs it, then licks it twice before pulling back. "I'd have to inspect it properly to come to a  _real_ conclusion—"

" _Coran_."

"But it looks like to me that your ring Lance is made from  _floysium_."

Lance nods. "See, Pidge.  _Floysium_ , I bet that's like the alien equivalent of a diamond or something."

"Actually," Coran says, scratching at his chin awkwardly. "I believe the equivalent for you back on Earth would be a material you call  _plastic_."

Keith stares at the ring on his finger - it glistens in the light of the television behind him - then turns to look at Lance. He's relieved to see Lance has the same look of disbelief on his face. "Plastic?"

"Plastic," Coran says with a nod. " _Floysium_ is a very common material on Brilas. It's mostly used for making children's toys and things like that."

" _Children's toys_ ," Pidge says, grinning a grin that serves to make Keith very, very nervous. "Children's toys like, oh, I don't know, a toy wedding ring, Coran?"

"Exactly like that," Coran says cheerfully before he seems to realise what he's said. He turns back to Lance and the ring still nestled on his finger. "Oh dear."

"Pidge," Shiro says wearily. "Please just— Just tell us what's going on here because it seems like you're the only one with any idea."

"Well, I don't remember  _everything_ ," Pidge says, grinning sheepishly over at Shiro. "I remember we went to bar back on Brilas, not long after we separated from you guys, and somebody there recognised us as Team Voltron—"

"Oh yeah, I remember  _that_ ," Hunk says wistfully. "There were two of them, a guy and a girl, and they kept insisting they'd pay for our drinks to ' _thank us for our services to the universe_ '."

Pidge nods enthusiastically. "Yeah, those guys. Anyway, they kept pouring the drinks and we kept drinking and eventually the bar shut but none of us were ready to go home and you two—" She pauses and narrows her eyes at the both of them. "You two were  _insufferable_."

" _Hey_ ," Lance says at the exact same moment Keith says " _Insufferable_?"

"Insufferable," Pidge says again with a self-satisfied little nod. "You were all over each other, from like the second drink. It was— I dunno, I guess it was kind of cute at first, watching you two finally stop dancing around each other, but um, things got out of hand."

Keith glances at the ring on his finger and suddenly he knows  _exactly_ where Pidge's story is going.

"We walked past a chapel and Keith was  _determined_ to go in and—"

" _Hah!_ " Lance says loudly as he turns to face Keith and points an accusing finger in his face. "I  _knew_ you proposed to me and— Oh. Sorry, Pidge."

"Thanks," Pidge drawls, rolling her eyes at the interruption. "Anyway, we went into a chapel and, I don't really remember much about it, just that we  _really_ pissed off the receptionist there somehow and they wouldn't let you two get married. So we left and eventually came across this vending machine with toy rings in and, well," Pidge gestures to the both of them. " _Ta-da_."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Lance says, breaking the rather uncomfortable silence that has blanketed itself over the room. "That's definitely something you probably should've mentioned, Pidge."

She shrugs, and Keith is glad to see that she looks at least somewhat apologetic. "To be honest, I completely forgot about it all until now. And anyway, I guess after neither of you ever mentioned it, I just assumed it was one of those things we'd all mutually agreed to never bring up again? Like that time Shiro sat on that—"

"Alright," Shiro says loudly, clearing his throat. "Thank you Pidge, we get the message."

Pidge shrugs again and leans back into the couch. "Anyway, yeah. You're not married. Sorry about that."

"But they are still  _together?_  Yes?" Allura asks, peering at Lance and Keith as if she half expects them both to turn and run. "Or—"

"Yeah," Lance says, easily taking a step closer to Keith to drape an arm over his shoulder. "We are. Aren't we?"

Keith doesn't even hesitate as he closes the tiny gap between them and wraps an arm around Lance's waist. "Yeah, Lance. Of course."

"Great," Shiro says, voice still a little more clipped than Keith is used to hearing, but Keith is glad to see his gaze has softened around the edges. Keith knows he and Shiro are going to have a long,  _long_ talk at some point during the next few days, but he's glad to see things apparently aren't as bad as they could've been between them. He doesn't like arguing with Shiro, it's not something they do often and it's not something he's keen to do again anytime soon. "Now that's all sorted and Keith and Lance have so kindly stopped short at giving me a heart attack, can we continue the movie?"

"Yes!" Allura says brightly, picking up the remote control by her side to rewind the movie back to the place it had been before Keith and Lance had burst into the room. "Shall we? Keith, Lance," she nods at the only other empty couch in the room. "Take a seat?"

"Gotcha, Princess," Lance says.

Keith murmurs in agreement and allows Lance to tug him towards the couch and pull him down on top of it. He doesn't really want to watch the movie, wants to spend some time with Lance to talk about everything that's just gone on in their lives, but he's also distinctly aware that Shiro still has his eye on him and he doesn't want to push his luck more than he already has. Lance drapes an arm around Keith as they sink into the plush sofa and Keith leans into his touch.

"You know," Lance murmurs, breath tickling Keith's neck as he leans in as close as possible the others can't hear. "I really did like being married to you."

"Yeah?" Keith says, tilting his head to the side so he can whisper in Lance's ear. "Me too."

Lance grins that grin he reserves solely for Keith, soft and bashful, and Keith's stomach flips in that entirely pleasant way once again. "Maybe someday we can do it again. Just, no fake rings this time."

Warmth blooms in Keith's chest and spreads out across his entire body until Keith can't help the grin he feels stretching his lips. "Someday?"

" _Someday_."

Keith decides as he leans into Lance's touch and enjoys the sensation of Lance's fingers carding idly through his hair, that  _someday_ sounds kind of great right now.


End file.
